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The next vibration was as light as a caress but it seemed
to explode inside her. The danger was so close. If only she
could leave a message. She thought of her cell phone sitting,
uselessly, in the pocket of her yellow slicker. There was no
pen or paper, no lipstick or blood with which to scrawl a note.
She was, literally, Luke's only chance.
Sweat gathered under her armpits and dripped between
her breasts. Making as little noise as possible, she pulled her
feet up under her so she was ready to pounce. She felt
another vibration. Her heart was pounding so hard and so fast
she wondered if she'd pass out. Oblivion beckoned but she
couldn't respond.
There was Luke.
Tears built up behind Jessie's eyes. She didn't want him to
die. She didn't want to die, either. She wanted them to live.
Together. For an instant she forgot about Crystal and all the
reasons they couldn't have a happily-ever-after. She wasn't
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just fighting for their lives. She was fighting for their future.
She positioned her flashlight so she could bring it down hard
on the intruder's head.
Of course she wouldn't be able to reach his head. She'd
have to settle for his chest or his stomach or...that was it.
She'd aim for his groin.
She felt the ground shake again just before she heard an
ominous click. She pulled back her arm, sprang to her feet
and swung the flashlight as hard as she could just as a
gunshot cracked. She swatted at the air, her momentum
carrying her in a circle and knocking her to the ground. The
shooter missed, too, but he wouldn't a second time. Now he
knew she was there, sprawled and panting on the floor. She
heard the click again. She just hoped someone caught the
bastard after she was dead and Luke. He'd be buried alive.
"He's in the," she croaked, but her words were cut off by a
shriek followed by the clacking of stilettos on linoleum.
"Oh my god, Denny! I heard a gunshot in the parlor!"
The vibrations started again. They were quicker and faster.
Would the gunman shoot Lois? The door opened and closed,
softly. No. The intruder had slipped back into the silence of
the mortuary.
"C'mon, baby, that was just the cork from that bottle of
bubbly." Dennis Prendergast's voice was slurred.
He and Lois were at it again. That left only one reasonable
conclusion.
The stalker was Epps.
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Jessie lay on the floor, visible from the doorway if either of
the lovers had gotten that close. She willed them to go back
to their business.
"It sounded like a gun," Lois maintained.
"C'mon back here, hon. I've gotta gun just waitin' for you."
Luke could hear Jessie gasping and puffing as he dragged
her through the empty streets. Fueled by adrenalin and rage
he ran full-out, allowing no quarter for her much shorter legs.
He vaulted up the shallow steps to Blanche's front porch.
He stopped so fast she slammed into him as he dug out his
key. He cursed. The instant they were inside he pinned her
shoulders against the door.
"Goddammit," he bit out. The golden eyes held no fear,
only contrition and something else that reached into his chest
and under his heart. Her lips parted and he wanted to drill
into her hard enough to split her in two.
Need clawed at him like an animal trapped in a box. He
didn't care if the rest of them woke up and sold tickets. No
way he'd make it upstairs. He had to have her. Now. Her
hands were on his face, her tongue in his mouth. Thank God
she felt the same.
Desperate to feel her soft skin, to lose himself in her
warmth, to possess her. Desperate to get inside her, his
fingers tangled with hers over the snaps on his old letter
jacket. Finally it was open.
"Shit," he growled. "Overalls."
His gut spasmed, his erection throbbed. Frustration
slammed into him.
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"I've got it," she breathed. She shoved the straps off her
shoulders and down her body. The boots stopped her but her
eagerness had given him fresh resolve. He stripped off her
boots and clothes, ripped open his jeans and thrust into her.
Christ. He was wound as tight as a rubber-band.
Rubber.
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